Anastasia and the plot are the only part of this which belongs to me. Everything else belongs to their respective owners; namely J.R.R. Tolkien.
Italics – Thoughts/Thinking
Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
Chapter 13: Unnerving Stares and Heart-stopping Fears
Aragorn
I grunted in pain from the jarring motion cause by landing on my behind and rubbed my chest where the blow landed. Bewildered I looked to Ana who was looking back with an intense, unblinking stare. Her eyes seemed to strip away the layers of protection boring down to my very soul. Her stare was unnerving, but her eyes were even more so. Instead of the silver I remembered they were golden eyes not unlike a house cat, the golden eyes from my dream. The golden eyes seemed very out of place on the sunken in face of this small girl, having an intensity and presence Ana did not have. What was more unnerving that her staring at me was that her stare made me feel small and venerable, like a deer staring into the face of its death as a pack of wolves descend upon the helpless animal.
As I watched, the golden colour of her eyes faded back into the metallic silver I remembered and a sheepish expression passed over her face.
Anastasia
The first thing I realized was: my head hurt: a lot. The second, once I managed to pry my eyes open, I was back in my human form. The night wasn't as bright and my eyes didn't cut through the darkness as well; a key feature of being in my humanoid form. Sure my eyesight, sense of smell, hearing and strength were better than the average human's, but in my feline form they are even better.
The third was Strider was staring down at me . . . with a bewildered expression on his face; Uh oh. "We need to talk," Strider said his mood somber.
I tried to sit up, but my head swam as darkness once again tried to take over and my arm screamed its complaint, as I tried to make it bear my weight. I hissed in pain and curled myself around my arm. It should of healed by now, poisoned or not.
Strider gave a small chuckle as he leaned over to inspect my head, where I could feel my skin knitting itself back together. Out of the corner I watched his expressions change from concern to confusion followed by caution, as he watched my head heal. After making sure the wound on my head was actually heal, Strider rolled me onto my back and attempted to look at my arm which I still protected with my body.
"I haven't hurt you yet and I'm not going to hurt you now," he muttered tugging on my uninjured arm which I had clamped over the injury. Slowly my grip loosened as I allowed him to remove my hand.
While he murmured over my arm, I studied him. For some reason I did not respond negatively when he entered my personal space, as I did to every other person since being horrendously victimized. Although wary of him, the underlying, heart-stopping fear I felt around most people; was not to be found and my inner feline felt content around him, happy even, as I realized he seemed familiar.
Aragorn finished bandaging my arm, although he did not seem satisfied with what he had done and hoisted me to my feet. "Come," he commanded pulling me by arm, "we need to talk, but I also need to help Frodo. We will talk as we move." He suited an action to his words and began walking. After a quick look around I followed, slinking through the darkness as I moved to catch up.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. London: Allen & Unwin, 1954. Print.
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